Pictures And Stuff

This weekend I hung out with the ex co workers. I didn't ask anybody's permission to post their picture so if you know them, just don't tell them about it. This will be our little secret. These are all people I used to work with.


Me after a few


Me and Loquacious Girl. That's what I called her on my old blog. She used to sit right outside my office and eavesdrop on my personal phone calls and talk all day.


Me and K (aka half of the Maybe-Weds)


Shot # 4? or was it 5? I lost count.


Me and Inappropriate Cleavage Girl. It's covered today, but when I used to be her manager, the twins were always on display


They are doing shots called BlowJobs. Supposed to do it with no hands.



Me and C. I couldn't think of a nickname for her. But she's mad cool.


Me and Chi-Town. If you read the old blog, this is the one who used to come over all the time to watch the Sopranos and drink all my liquor.


Me, Chi-town, Loqacious Girl, and K


Will somebody tell them to hurry up and get married already?


I don't know how I actually got them to pose together. They actually hate each other in many different combinations.


A bunch of ex co-workers including B.A.N. (Bitchazznigga)


Another group shot.

The Apple Picking thing pretty muched sucked. It wasn't like I remembered it as a kid. Maybe because that was in New York and here I was in the mountains of Georgia. There weren't hardly any apples left to pick. But there was a petting zoo. The kids got to play with some animals. I of course, hate animals and have horrible allergies so I stayed on the outside and took pictures. Here are some of the flicks I snapped.



T.


D.


C.


Me and the Boys



Me and C.

The rest of these pictures are from just chilling around the house.


My niece and nephew on my computer


My nephew on his laptop. Yes, the 11 year old has a laptop and I don't. He paid for most of it himself.


I do have more than one shirt, but this is from a couple of weeks ago, about to go to the Stevie Wonder concert. I would have put up a pic of me and PHD, but Diva told me not to.

And finally, here is my little nephew again. He's going through potty training now. They sing him a song "Potty like a Big Boy" to the tune of "Party Like a Rockstar" I wish I could upload video, because I got one of him on the potty with his stunner shades on, rocking along to the song. It just might be the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life.


POTTY LIKE A ROCKSTAR


Okay, sorry for overloading you with pictures, but it's easier than writing a real post. Have a great start to your week! I'll holla on Tuesday.

Not Much Of A Post Today

Just a short post today. I couldn't find anything in my drafts that didn't need extensive editing and I don't feel like doing that...

The weekend is upon us again and this time I got stuff to do. I had to find alternate plans since PHD is going to be hanging out with her sorors at her undergrad homecoming this weekend. My old job is closing their office here in Atlanta and sending the jobs to Mexico or something, so I'm supposed to hang out with the old co workers as they celebrate unemployment. I told them I was coming early in the week, but then I looked at the Evite invitation list and there are some people coming I just don't want to see. Well, really just one, but I guess I'll suck it up and worse come to worst, I'll just get drunk and curse somebody out. I'll be sure to take lots of pictures of the drunken debauchery.

Saturday is going to be a family day. I mentioned in my Dear Autumn post about how I used to go apple picking every fall as a kid. Well, the next day my sister told me she was taking the kids to do that this weekend. So, I invited myself to hang out with them. The apple orchard is somewhere up in North Georgia and we'll be going in the morning provided that we get our procrastination in check. I don't have anything to do that night, but the Atlanta Football Classic is this weekend, and the city will be packed, so if I want to I'm sure I can find somewhere to go. More than likely, I'll just stay home and watch those DVD's (Knocked Up, Grindhouse, and Next) I got from Netflix. Sunday, I'm supposed to get up with PHD in the afternoon. Probably just go to lunch or something before I go to work, but I'm not sure yet.

And that's it. Not much of a post today, but it's the weekend, why should I have to do work? Have a great weekend, and I'll get at cha next week.

From My Drafts: How To Remain Celibate (Without Really Trying)

Sometimes I just think of a concept I like and try to write about it. Sometimes it works out, other times the tone completely changes in the middle of the post. That's what happened with this one. When I started writing this post, it was intended to be lighthearted and jocular. I soon realized that most of it is actually true and it wasn't so funny to me anymore. I also sounded like I was biting the Humanity Critic's style, so I never posted it. Anyway, maybe you will find some humor in this one. I wrote this back in early July. More sad truth about Rashan!

How To Remain Celibate (Without Really Trying)

It's amazing how easy it is to not have sex. Sometimes just a simple word or action will keep you chaste. I sat down and thought about what's (not) going on. Here are some of the ways I have managed to maintain my unintentional celibacy over the last few months.

Not Returning Phone Calls - I don't ever answer my phone. Usually its because I'm busy or sleep, but sometimes I just don't feel like hearing about the same old stuff over and over. I had an old partner call me a couple of months ago. It had been a while and I just assumed it was the regular old catching up phone call. I didn't even listen to the message until a couple of days later. When I finally returned the call, I was quickly informed that I suck and I should have called back sooner and all the rest of the lecture that I always get when I neglect to call people back. And then just to make matters worse, it turns out my one missed call was a booty call (do people still use that term?). Chalk one up for the abstinence police.

Inappropriate Memory - Met this girl named something or other. Thought I knew her, but couldn't remember where from. After a couple of days talking on the phone, it hit me. She used to dance at the Blue Flame. Her stripper name was Black Desire. I found a pretext to ask her about it, and she lied at first and said it wasn't her. She told me the real deal a couple days later. As much as I like strippers, I can't see myself messing with one. Hypocritical? You damn right, but it is what it is.

Post Coital Pillow Talk - The last time I had sex, we did what we did and I was damn near sleep. She kept fidgeting and talking to me. I accidentally said "Are you still talking?" I know that was messed up. I was thinking it but I didn't mean to say it out loud. Oops. Coincidence or not, there has been no return engagement.

Multiple Personalities - Occasionally, T. Cas decides that he wants to come out and play. Rashan is a nice guy who sometimes has a smart mouth. T. Cas is a smart ass with a mean streak. T. Cas usually lies dormant until the liquor gets in me, but on a few occasions, he has come out saying shit that Rashan regrets. Like the time when this girl read me a poem she wrote. Rashan would have said something like "oh that was pretty good." But T. Cas said something like "I see where you were trying to go, but the rhyme scheme was a little juvenile." Not the best tactic for convincing a girl to swallow my babies.

Clueless - I sometimes get my Stacy Dash on and get real clueless. I have no idea that a chick is feeling me. I miss all the signs until its too late. I don't see a light touch on the arm as the flirting it really is until I analyze the situation later. Then I curse myself out for being so dense. Probably also not a good idea to ask "Why?" when she asked me to put my number in her phone.

Nerd Alert - I have to remind myself that not everybody gets me when I'm in nerd mode. Instead of finding me scholarly, they find me pedantic. So instead of saying "talk a lot" I say "loquacious" or instead of just saying I don't like Lil Wayne, I break off into a ten minute diatribe about how he just babbles incoherently in the hopes that the listener doesn't realize that what he said doesn't actually mean anything. Or coming up with specific examples of how that line that everybody else thinks is so hot is actually a bad simile that would make Rakim commit suicide so he can turn over in his grave. See I'm doing it again. I gotta remember to dumb it down for my audience if I'm gonna actually have relations sometime this year.

Just Plain Not Trying - Here in lies the major reason. By no means do I consider myself to be God's gift to women, but damn, some of the ugliest, no job having, treat women wrong type brothers can get some, so why can't I? I guess its because I don't try. I could analyze myself and say its a fear of rejection, or maybe it's because I just I don't wanna be bothered with people. I don't know, I haven't gotten that far in therapy yet. That old adage applies to my dealing with women: "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." Shit, maybe I just want someone to chase me and do the hard work.

Whatever the reason, I'm in a dry spell. Nah, check that. My shit is like the Mojave. I have been unintentionally celibate for, nope I'm not even going to type how long. I started this post making jokes, but now looking at the truth of the situation, I'm actually kinda depressed. LOL. I might as well start looking in to a monastery.

Alternate Titles: We're Not Making Love No Mo', Unintentional Celibacy, No Sex And The City, How To Talk Your Way Out Of Sex...

From My Drafts: Locked Up! or Rage Against The Machine

This post is from my drafts. I never posted it because it was pretty embarrassing to me. But I said I was gonna let out some secrets, so here is one. I've only told two people about this since it happened in April. Not even my family knows that I got locked up. I've made some minor edits to the post, but this is basically what I was thinking back in April. The anger is authentic, the language is vulgar, and the emotions reveal what I was going through. Oh yeah, its long as hell too. I remember that morning. I just sat down at the computer and started writing and here is what I came up with....

LOCKED UP! or RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE (I couldn't decide which title to use)

My name is Diamond, yep you guessed it
Ran a thousand schemes and I never been arrested
I guess I'm lucky cuz I'm young and I'm a Black man
And intelligent, so everything is relevant.

Diamond D "I Went For Mine" 1992

The quote comes from one of the most slept on hip hop albums of all time: Stunts, Blunts and Hip Hop by Diamond D. This used to describe me. That is until last night. Your boy got locked up. Arrested, put in the slammer. What the hell?

I always thought my first time in jail would be for something else. I've run more schemes than I can enumerate. In high school, I fashioned myself as the Racial Robin Hood, stealing from the privileged White kids and giving to the middle class me. It's bullshit, I know. I never wanted for anything, but what can I say? I had the necessities, but I wanted more. So I stole from people that let their guard down. It helped me have a little bit of loot to buy tapes (cuz CD's were just too damn expensive) and go check out a movie at the Tara Cinema right up the street from my house. St Patrick's Day in Savannah was also a prime payday. As drunk as the partiers got, it was easy pickings to "find" a wallet here or there. Sometimes, all I had to do is ask and they would give me their money. But as much dirt as I did, I never got caught.

Fast forward a few years. Me and my boys were deep into the weed scene. I never really smoked that much, in fact I intentionally never learned how to roll a blunt, but the spots we hung out in were 4:20 friendly. At anytime, the Savannah Police Department could have rolled up on us and found some bud in the car, in the crib, in our pockets. We were flagrant with it. It was almost like marijuana wasn't illegal. One time at Freaknik, I think it was 95 or 96, whenever the real lame one was, Kareem, Tori and I walked into a Marta train station passing a blunt back and forth. We also had sports bottles full of that Goldschlager. I mean we were twisted in public. The transit police stopped us and Tori threw the blunt on the train tracks. Luckily they weren't trying to be Super Cop and let us go after making us pour out our liquor. That was one of my closest brushes with the law. For all intents and purposes, I should have caught a case over a decade ago.

I'm not going to go on and list all my crimes, but needless to say, I have done my share of dirt. I made it through unscathed. As a 32 year old, I don't get down like I used to. I don't live my life in fear of the police because I know that I'm legal. No more driving on a suspended license or not having insurance on the whip. I even have current tags on it. So when I got pulled over in mothafuckin' Dalton, GA, I wasn't scared. I figured I would hand him my license and insurance, get my ticket (although I didn't think I was speeding) and be on my merry way. Yeah, it didn't go down like that.

The Whitfield County trooper pulled me over around 9 pm. I had all my information ready for him. He told me that I was going 82 in a 70mph. I wasn't. (EDIT: In fact I know I wasn't going that fast because with my bad tires on the car, it started shaking violently when I got up to 77 mph.) I learned a long time ago not to argue with police because its just a waste of time. It's not like he was gonna say "you know what? You're right, lets just forget the ticket" I signed for the ticket and was about to be on my way, but Officer Ihateniggers decided that I just might be a drug dealer. Get the fuck outta here. I had never in my life experienced that: a real like driving while Black.

Officer Ihateniggers wanted to search the car. I tried to remember from high school civics what would happen if I refused. I know there were no drugs in the car, but I just didn't want him to get away with that blatant racial profiling. He had no reason to believe I had anything to do with drugs. I told him that he couldn't search. He said he would call for a K9 unit to get probable cause. I told him go ahead. He said that I can lose my license for refusing his request. I said, I am willing to take that chance in court because I don't feel like he had any reason to search my car. He went back to his patrol car and presumably called for the K9 unit. I'm leaning on the side of my car, getting more and more pissed off. 30 minutes passed and I'm still on the side of the highway. I walk over to the police car to ask how long its gonna be. Officer Ihateniggers interpreted this as a threat and, with hand on his gun, told me to step back.

WTF? I'm just just trying to ask a question and he damn near pulled out his piece on me. Officer Ihateniggers said something about "making aggressive movements" and handcuffed me. I'm like WTF? I didn't do anything. He puts me in the back of the police car and proceeds to rifle through my car. Again, I know there ain't no drugs in it, so I'm talking a little shit. Saying stuff like "you gonna apologize when you don't find nothing?" and "I can't believe you don't have anything better to do than to harass me." (EDIT: In retrospect it was a pretty shitty idea to antagonize him, but I was indignant at the poor treatment) I was getting angry and time seemed to slow down. I don't know how long I was in the police car because my cell phone was in my car. It was hot and stuffy and smelled like feet and vomit in the back of the car. Needless to say, Officer Ihateniggers didn't come up with any narcotics in the car. But he did find something.

"I'm taking you in on suspicion of identity theft"
"WHAT???"
"Do you care to explain why you have someone else's drivers license in your car?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Alton Derrick (same last name), I'm sure he'll be real interested to know you have his driver's license."
"That's my father. He's been dead over 10 years"
"Stealing your dead father's identity. What kinda trash does that?"

I blacked out with rage. This mothafucka was talking too much shit and I knew I couldn't do anything about it. I attempted to explain that I carry that license as a reminder of my father. I don't really have too many pictures of him. The license has expired many years ago. I'm not using it to steal anyone's identity. Besides, I know we look alike, but he is obviously 15 years older than I am in that picture. My God, the more I started to talk, the more rage seethed within me. I couldn't get any words out and I started stuttering. I know that only made me look more suspicious. He called a tow truck and told them to come impound my car. After what seemed like an eternity, we were finally off to county lock up.

I didn't get the whole strip search experience, but another officer frisked me more carefully than they do at the booty club. I mean, he was all up under my sack. I felt violated. They took me to a little room and took my picture and later fingerprinted me. I don't remember ever being advised of my Miranda rights, but I can't say for sure because the rage made me a little unaware of my surroundings. They took the handcuffs off and placed me in a holding cell with a couple of Mexicans, about three Black dudes in white tees and a stinking drunk White guy. I wasn't scared at all, I figured if worse came to worse I could take at least 5 out of 6 of the other jailbirds in a fight. (EDIT: Yeah, right. I haven't been in a fight since 3rd grade. I woulda got my ass beat down. LOL) Mostly though, they just looked as blowed as I did at being in jail on a Thursday night. There were no clocks around so I didn't know what time it was as I was just sitting there on a bench cursing myself for drinking that big ass Mountain Dew and thinking how much I had to pee, but refusing to go in front of strangers. Sometime later, they took me out to question me.

I met with a guy I'll call Sergeant Commonsense. The conversation went a little like this:

"So, where were you going tonight?"
"I was on my way to Tennessee."
"What were you going to do?"
"I was going to see my goddaughter."
"Do you know it's illegal to carry another person's identification?"
"I do now. But I had no intent to break the law. I just held on to the license for sentimental reasons. It's all I have left of my father. I mean, it's not even a valid license."
"But you did break the law, you know? I can hold you until the morning for arraignment."
"Okay, can I call someone and let them know where I am?"
"That won't be necessary. You are free to go."
"Really?!?" (sarcasm overshadowed my relief)
"Yeah, I'll have someone take you to the impound yard to get your car. It's gonna be about $75 to get your car."
"Am I being charged?"
"Not at this time."
"I know its a lot to ask, but is there any chance I can get my father's license back? I don't have that many pictures of him"
"Yeah, I guess so. Just don't carry it in your wallet anymore. Leave it home"

A minor sense of relief crossed my brow at those words. Sergeant Commonsense did right by me. I wanted to tell him about Officer Ihateniggers, but thought it would be more prudent to get my ass out of jail first. I took another ride in a police cruiser, this time without handcuffs, down a dark and windy dirt road to the impound lot. It wasn't even affiliated with the police, just a tow yard in the middle of nowhere. According to the officer that drove me, it was now 4 AM. I had been dealing with this shit for 7 hours. I paid the impound fee and got my car and left. Instead of heading back north to Tennessee, I turned my Black ass around and went home. That experience had ruined my mood and I needed to be alone. (EDIT: And I stayed alone for a few weeks. This was my "don't answer the phone, sit around and brood period) Arrested for the first time in my life for some bullshit. All the wrong I've done and this is what gets me in the system. I'm furious that my fingerprints are now in the system. (EDIT: I forgot that since I work in the financial services industry, my prints are already on file.) I got home at about 6 in the morning and turned my phone off. I can't deal with talking about this. The rage keeps coming back. I'm not in the mood to hear platitudes or well intentioned empathy. I just want to be left the fuck alone. I can't fuckin' believe at age 32, I just became another statistic.

Reflection Eternal

I apologize in advance for the cryptic and rambling nature of this post. Insomnia is kicking my ass tonight. I promise I'll be back to normal tomorrow. It's damn near daybreak and I'm up for no reason, just reflecting on my life. I do this every now and then when I can't sleep. That's why I always have the TV on or some music to distract me. Today, I'm watching the History Channel (with the close captioning on), and got the Erykah Badu blasting, but I can't shake the feeling. I gotta reflect.

I don't even know why I'm writing this, because half the shit going through my brain, I can't even talk about. Or more accurately, I choose not to talk about. I've become more selective about the pieces of me that I share on the blog. You know the basic personality, you know the motivations, you know some of the major events, but there is so much I don't say. When I get like this, I sometimes wish I had the guts to just say what was on my mind, damn the consequences. If you could see some of the posts I have in my drafts, you may have an entirely different perception of me. I wrote about some of the ill shit that I have done, some of the mistakes I have made, some of the ill shit that has been done to me. I just can't bring myself to post them. Part of me thinks that I should just let it all out, cuz it makes for some damn good reading, if I say so myself. But the other part of me worries about the effect of what my words would cause. Would you see me differently? Probably. Would you see some of your favorite bloggers (intentionally plural) differently? Undoubtedly, you would.

I reflect on the last couple of years and I see it like a movie. Maybe it's because I did nothing this weekend but watch DVD's, but my thoughts are real cinematic right now. I think I could pass off some of my experiences as fiction and sell them to Hollywood. I guess everybody's life is like that. Maybe it only seems dramatic to me, but the last two years would make a pretty good rising action in a plot. There is one big story that I have been itching to tell, but for the sake of keeping the peace, I've kept to myself. I mean, nobody, blog world or otherwise knows this story. Bits and pieces may have slipped out after a couple shots of Jack, but the whole story is locked up in my vault. People may think they know, but they have no idea. I'll take the blame for that. I've refused to talk about it, I've lied about it, I intentionally planted misinformation to avoid talking about it. I've been trying to psyche myself up to tell the whole story, but every time I get to the point where I wanna let it out, I self censor myself. And if you been reading me for awhile, its not the story you think I'm talking about, although it is somewhat related.

I guess the reason I've kept quiet is that I really don't like confrontation. I try my best to avoid conflict with people, to the point that I let them get away with their slanderous words and misperceptions of who I really am. And that's my justification for keeping quiet. It really wouldn't do any good to talk about it, except for the cathartic possibilities. I may feel better talking about it, but after that momentary feeling of relief, nothing will change. Drama would be all stirred up for no reason other than me wanting to get some shit off my chest. And is that really worth it? Once again, a rhetorical question. I've already decided that it's not worth it. Except on nights like this when I can't get my brain to stop working no matter how many times I put "Mama's Gun" on repeat.

I know I'm not the only one that keeps stuff to himself. I can always tell when I'm reading blogs where information has been intentionally omitted. I just decided (like as I'm typing this sentence) this week I'm going to try to tell you guys something that I have been holding in. Not necessarily the aforementioned story, but something that I have intentionally kept secret. I have to decide what it's gonna be. I think it will be good for me to unburden myself, as long as nobody else gets hurt. Check back tomorrow and I'll hopefully will have come up with something from my drafts that I was hesitant to post. This is gonna be my week of full fledged, unbridled honesty, whether it paints me in a bad light or not. Bear with me, it may not be pretty, but it should be interesting.

Dear Autumn

Dear Autumn,

I know we still technically have a couple of days before you arrive, but I just wanted to let you know that I am really looking forward to you. Your cousin Spring and I just didn't get along, and your sister Summer and I have been having an up and down relationship. I'm counting on you, Autumn, to keep me happy. I'm in a really good place right now. I don't have a thing to complain about and I need your help to maintain that. Me and you, Autumn, we gonna ride the next few months. I see you already coming through with the lower temperatures and I appreciate that. What's better than a cool Autumn afternoon with some football and some friends? That's what I need. What's better than taking a walk amongst the changing foliage with a pretty lady? What's better than frolicking in the leaves with your nephews and nieces? I need you to do your part, Autumn. I promise if you do, I will do my best to maintain this good mood I've been in lately. You have always been my favorite of the seasons. Don't let me down this year.

Remember, back in the day when we used to be inseparable? We made quite a team. When I was young in New York, we would go apple picking every year you came around. I recall riding my bike all over Spring Valley in my school clothes and then rushing home to change before my mother got home. When I was a teenager, we would hit the Coastal Empire Fair each fall. I'll never forget those teenage days of high school football games and Godfather's Pizza. When I was a little bit older, Autumn, you always brought a new feminine distraction my way. It's like you knew when it was time for me to stop being a loner. You always brought on the good times. Let's get back to what we used to be. This year hasn't gone quite the way I thought it would, but Autumn, together we can be formidable. I'll see you in a couple of days.

One Love,

Rashan Jamal

Insatiable

I'm gonna be all the way real with you. I gotta problem with never being satisfied. I don't mean that in a good way, like I don't stop til I reach my goal. What I mean is, when I get what I think I want, I find something wrong with it. It makes no sense, but I might as well just be honest with you. I may just be a tad bit out of my mind.

If you go to a strip club, there's always a guy trying to hit on the waitress...

I've been that dude before. In the midst of all the ladies willing to dance butt ass naked for me, I had my eye on the waitress. She was like 4'11" and had these hypnotizing grey eyes and a smile that lit up the smoke filled club. Shawty had me open, ordering drinks I didn't even want, tipping her like she just was working on the pole. Wondering how much it would take to get her to start stripping. There was a point to this rambling, I think. Oh yeah, some people (by that I mean me) are just never satisfied.

By now, you are probably wondering what in the blue hell I am talking bout, so let me explain. I said I didn't want a relationship and I don't. I like the whole "just dating" thing. I like the fact that Sunday-Thursday, I can just do me and not have to worry about placating someone else. I like that Friday and/or Saturday I can chill with someone without all the expectations of a relationship. I've been getting exactly what I want. So why the hell was I thinking crazy this week?

I found myself wanting more. Now hold on, before you get the wrong idea, let me clarify. I don't want a girlfriend right now. I think what I want is someone who wants to be my girlfriend. Maybe its an ego thing. I'm so used to having people doing their damnedest to get my attention. Even though I don't want someone who is gonna call me all the damn time, I wonder, why doesn't she call me all the time. How come she doesn't want more from me than I'm willing to give? I know it's nuts and I should just be happy that I'm getting what I want, but my brain is thinking otherwise. Could it be that I really do enjoy the stalker bugaboo thing? Do I want someone who is way more into me than I am with them? What the hell is wrong with me that I can't just be content with things the way they are?

My ex told me yesterday that this was good for me. Now I can see what I always do to people. She said that I act all sweet in person, and then aloof when we're apart. I hate to admit it, but she's right. It's like looking in a mirror. I know I keep people at arms length, but I'm not used to it happening to me. I'm used to looking at my phone and smirking because someone is calling too much, not looking at my phone and not seeing any missed calls. And at the risk of repeating myself, this freedom and Rashan time is what I want. But what do I do if its not what I want anymore?

I'm not really asking for advice. These are just rhetorical questions that I've been asking myself. By the time anyone even reads this post, I'll probably have come to my senses and be thanking merciful God that I'm not being pressured into a relationship. I'm just never satisfied I guess. Either that, or I'm out of my mind. God, I hope she never stumbles across my blog. That would really, really suck. LOL

The Tag Team Interview

I tell you, the people I meet are stranger than fictional characters. I was leaving work the other day when a couple of new co workers decided to tag team interview me. It went a little something like this:

Co-Worker 1 - Where are you going?
Me: It's time to go home.
Co Worker 2 - Wait, talk to us for a minute. We don't get off for another hour, so entertain us.
Me: Entertain you? We bout to take it to the house.
Co Worker 1 - Who is we?
Me: Figuratively speaking, I talk about myself in the fourth person collective.
Co Worker 2 - What does that mean?
Me: Nothing, I just talk sometimes. Anyway, I will see you guys tomorrow.
Co Worker 1 - Wait!
Me: What's up?
Co Worker 1 - What did you do this weekend? What book is that you are reading? Is it good?What's up with the glasses? Where did you get those shoes? Where do you live?
Me: Uh okay? You gotta lot of questions.
Co Worker 2: We just want to get to know you.
Me: Okay, let me see if I caught all that. I went to the Stevie Wonder concert on Friday and watched football and slept Saturday.
Co Worker 1 - How was the concert?
Me: Wait, let me try to answer your other questions before you add to the list. I can only remember so many at a time.
Co Worker 1: What makes you think you are making the rules?
Co Worker 2 - Yeah!
Me: Okay, then. Sorry. The concert was good..(.blah, blah, blah.)
Co Worker 2 - Okay, now answer the rest of her questions.
Me: Let's see I live on the eastside. The book is Infidel. I only read like 40 pages, so I dont know if its good yet. I am wearing the glasses because I can't see, and I am resting my eyes from my contacts. Did I miss anything?
Co Worker 1 - The shoes?
Me: Oh, the Polo joints. I got them at Northlake Mall.
Co Worker 2: They are cute.
Me: Just what every man wants to hear. His shoes are cute.
Co Worker 1: They are cute. So are you married?
Me: Nope (holding up my hand so they can see no ring)
Co Worker 2: You gotta girlfriend?
Me: Nope
Co Worker 1: Why not? Are you gay?
Me: Hel.. No, I'm not gay. Do you think I'm gay?
Co Worker 1: You never know in Atlanta.
Me: No, I'm not gay.
Co Worker 2: So why don't you have a girlfriend?
Me: Don't know, just don't.
Co Worker1: So you're a playa?
Me: Huh? Where do you get that from?
Co Worker 2 : You don't have a girlfriend, you probably just sleep with a lot of women and then don't call them after.
Me: Have you been reading my diary or something?
Co Worker 1: So it's true! You a dog! I knew it.
Me: Nah, its not true. You guys are bugging tonight. I'm just not in a relationship, doesn't mean that I'm a dawg or I'm gay. I'm just me.
Co Worker 2 : How old are you? What sign?
Me: 32, Sagittarius.
Co Worker 1: You know co worker 2 is 32 too?
Me: Oh. I'm sure she is glad that you told her age.
Co Worker 2: You got kids?
Me: Nope
Co Worker 2: Want kids?
Me: Two - Aaliyah and Christopher.
Co Worker 1: You already got the names picked out? You know you gotta get a girlfriend first?
Me: Not necessarily... but yeah I hear ya!
Co Worker 2: So what about the girl you went to the concert with?
Me: Who said I went to the concert with a girl?
Co Worker 1: You did, though, right?
Me: Yeah, what about her?
Co Worker 2: How come she's not your girlfriend?
Me: You guys are getting awfully familiar.
Co Worker 1: Come on..just tell me.
Me: We just dating. It's not a relationship.
Co Worker 2 - Is that what you want or is that what she wants?
Me: It's what we both want. Can I go home now? You are getting too personal!
Co Worker 2: Okay, I can tell its a sensitive subject. I'll back off. So, how long you been "dating" her? What's her name?
Me: Damn, I gotta go. Man, its late.
Co Worker 2: You going to see her tonight?
Me: Nope
Co Worker 1: Why not?
Me: Cuz, I'm going home. It's 1 in the morning.
Co Worker 2: What are you gonna do tonight?
Me: Probably watch a movie, or mess around on my computer.
Co Worker 1: What movie?
Me: The Prestige, I started it but haven't finished it.
Co Worker 2: That movie sucked. The end where (proceeds to tell the end of the movie)
Me: Gee, thanks. I didn't want to be surprised by that.
Co Worker 2: Oops. It wasn't good anyway.
Me: Okay, I'm really leaving now. I hope you have been entertained enough.
Co Worker 1: Come on, just 30 more minutes.
Me: In 30 minutes, I will be on 285, bout to be home. You ladies have a good night.
Co Worker 1: Okay, then. Be that way. You just gonna leave us here bored.
Co Worker 2: Yeah, we thought you were better than that.
Me: Oh, a guilt trip huh? Unless your name is Sandi and you gave birth to me, guilt doesn't work on me. I'm outta here.
Co Worker 1 and 2: Bye, Rashan!!!
Me: Aiight, see ya tomorrow.

The St.evie Wo.nder Concert

I'm sitting at work doing nothing, so I might as well get my post out of the way. Friday was the St.evie Won.der concert that I have been talking about all week. It was (insert superlative phrase here.) The man has more hits than a Mik.e Ty.son fight. It was a real cool scene. It almost didn't happen though...

I think I told you it was an outdoors concert. Well, all day Friday the rain was coming down in apocalyptic proportions. I mean the sky looked like it was going to literally drop down and smother the earth. It wasn't a good look. I was cool with sitting in the rain, especially since I paid for the tickets, but Phd was kinda gloomy about the whole thing, having just gotten her hair done and all. Truth be told, somebody was going to the concert with me. Ain't no way in hell them tickets were going to waste. Anyway, after me commanding Mother Nature to comply, it finally stopped raining about 90 minutes before the show. The sky still looked ominous, but once we got there not one more drop of rain fell and by the time we hit the highway, PhD was excited again about the concert.

So, we get to the Chas.tain Pa.rk Am.pit.h.eatre (I had already done a dry run to make sure I wouldn't get lost) and parked in the parking lot. To my surprise, it was really close to the gate. t only took like 2 minutes to walk to the venue. The gates opened at 6:30 and the show didnt start until 8, so we were some of the first people there. Our tickets were on the lawn, which at first seemed like some bad tickets, but actually turned out to be the best seats in the house, except for the tables directly in front of the stage. PhD picked a good spot for us, we had plenty of room to stretch out the blanket and picnic basket (we did the grown up wine and cheese thing, or as I called it, the bougie experience.) We also were up higher than everybody else so we got to see everything, well as much as can be seen there. It was a cozy little spot, not like one of those huge stadiums where there are no good seats anywhere.

The show was great. Stev.ie did his thing for about 2.5 hours with no opening act. I knew most of the songs but there were a couple I didn't recognize. He brought Ind.ia.Ari.e out for a 20 minute rendition of "Ri.bbo.n in the Sk.y", which just so happens to be my favorite song of all time. They did an audience participation sing along thing that was fun too. Stev.ie sounded like he was a CD, his singing was flawless, the band was phenomenal, and the back up singers including his daughter were on point. The only thing that was a little strange was when Stevie decided to talk to the audience. He seemed to channel Ja.mes Bro.wn, cuz I couldn't understand a word he was saying (except when he went on a diatribe about how White people and Black people say the word "ridiculous" differently.) I was thinking "yeah, S.tevie! Shut up and sing." But it was a mad cool scene.

Now the people there were funny as hell. I found out that PhD is also a fan of one of my favorite pasttimes: talking about people. Let me give you a few examples of the tomfoolery I saw at the concert. First of all, who smokes weed at a Ste.vie W.onder concert? Apparently, the girl with the dreads (I know a stereotype, but is true) sitting next to me, and the stoner looking White guy with the hemp shirt and the hackysack ball. They were getting blazed at the concert. Then we have the middle age couple who were heavy into a Seagra.m's bottle, and were stumbling around. They had a mini bar in their cooler, and I swear they drank the whole damn thing. When St.evie sang "D.o I D.o", they decided to start stepping and they were getting the hell down. I tried to get a picture of them, but security was consficating cameras out there, so I kept it on the low. And my personal (least) favorite was a couple, who had to be in their late 50's, who were getting down to St.evie. It was refreshing watching them, until towards the end, they decided to have an unfortunate display of PDA that sickened me. I mean the kissing was enough, but then the butt grabbing and finger popping (yes you read that right) was fucking ridickalus (that's how Black people say it.) We were disgusted and yet couldn't look away. I mean, they were standing there in full view of everyone. And this member of the AARP had his hands in the front of his wife's shorts, while she writhed in ecstasy. Shit was nasty!

I had a really great time at the concert Friday, nastiness aside. To quote, E.ddie Mu.rphy "Stev.ie Wond.er is a musical genius!" It didn't rain at all and PhD and I had another great date. What can I do to top this one? I have no idea what's next. I wasn't able to get any pictures or video of the show, since cameras were banned, but I did get a few before the show started. If I can find my USB cord I'll upload a few, so you can see how I looked all cleaned up and maybe I'll put up a pic of me and ol girl, but probably not. LOL! Did I mention that she met my sister on Friday? That was a little weird too. Anyway, I hope you have a wonderful start to the week, and I'll get at ya later. One!

Return of the Asshole

I went to work in a great mood today. My Stevie Wonder tickets came by Fed -Ex, my new IPod came by UPS (Hey, Diva I got it with my spirit points), and I actually felt rested even though I only slept 4 hours. But once I got to work, I was in rare form. The asshole in me was on full blast today. I don't even remember half the shit I said, but I had 3 people call me an ass at work today. They said it with a smile so I guess they found it endearing. I have been making a conscious effort to be less sarcastic with people, but today they just brought it out of me. You ever have somebody say something that just begs for a smart ass answer? Well, I had that all day today.

Example #1 - I sent an email to my team letting them know when and where our team meeting was today. When the meeting started, this guy on the team didn't show up. When he finally joined us 10 minutes later, he said he didn't know we were having a meeting. I innocently told him, that I sent an email to the team to which he abruptly and quite rudely stated "I didn't get the email." Okay, this dude got a little loud with me, but I counted to 10 and held my tongue. I felt my smart assedness coming on, so I deliberately didn't say anything. But this guy kept griping about how he didn't get an email and how he should be included, blah blah blah. I couldn't take it anymore... I said "lets go to your desk and we can see if I included you on the email (which I already knew I did because I sent it to a distribution list.) This cat didn't even have Outlook open. That's when the sarcasm took over. I said, "its kind of hard to get an email if you don't even have your email open." He started hemming and hawing. I continued "You think next time I should send you a smoke signal, instead of an email?" Everybody started laughing and he looked embarrassed, which should have made me stop, but actually encouraged me to continue. I started listing other ways I could communicate with him like passing notes, carrier pigeon and finally mental telepathy. I know I am such an asshole sometimes. But the rest of my team shouldn't have encouraged me.

Example #2 - It was another one of our employee appreciation days. At least once a month they feed us fattening foods in an attempt to make us forget that they don't pay us shit and keep reducing our bonuses. Well today, they brought us wings. Would you believe that this girl had the temerity to ask "what kind of wings are we getting, like chicken?" I looked around for a minute to make sure she actually said what I thought she said. And said, "Huh?" She repeated herself. I asked "What other kind of wings are we gonna get? Cow wings? Pig wings?" She realized what she said and tried to back track, but the damage was done. Another asshole moment for me today.

Example #3 - I am NOT the manager. I'm just a lowly employee like everyone else. True enough I do help out from time to time, but I have my own work to do too. I was on the phone with a client, and this dude was standing at my desk (too close to me for my liking) waiting for me to finish. I threw up the finger to indicate "give me a minute." This muhfucka sighed real loud and rolled his eyes like a woman. WTF? Who the hell do you think you are? Just because I helped you out before doesn't mean that I am gonna stop what I'm doing. I finished my call and he immediately launched into his question, with no sense of manners at all. The asshole in me took over again. I motioned with my hand for him to back up (actually, I shooed him away), but he didn't move. By this time people are watching us, waiting to hear what smart comment I say next, since I had been doing it all day. I fought the urge to say something sarcastic, but, well, I lost. I kinda accidentally told him to "take about three steps back, respect my personal space, and then ask his question." He turned red for a second, but eventually started laughing. I guess nobody can really stay mad at the asshole for too long.

Until today, I was doing a pretty good job of controlling my sarcasm. I guess being in a good mood made me wanna joke with people today. I said some other stuff today, but I can't remember it. It was like instinct took over today and made me be a jerk. Hopefully, my coworkers didn't go home and start sticking needles in a voodoo doll with my likeness. I know I'm an ass sometimes, but it's just so fun. Well, for me at least. Look at that, I posted two days in a row. Maybe, I'll go for three in a row tomorrow. Peace!

Its a C-O-N-spiracy

Man, September 11th has come and gone, but I'm tripping on some of the conspiracy theories I was hearing yesterday. Every year, otherwise rational people repeat ideas that they have no proof of, like its the gospel truth. For example, they will say Bush blew up the towers or Israel was responsible. You know just a bunch of speculation. Who knows maybe there is some truth to it, and it is pretty entertaining to read about the conspiracy theories, but to me that's all they are...theories. Shit, I have some theories of my own for which I offer no proof. Some of these I really believe, others are just made up. Here are my Conspiracy Theories Du Jour. (That's French. LOL)

Kool-Aid is a conspiracy to give Black people diabetes. You can't just drink Kool-Aid without loading it up with sugar. And its so cheap because they target poor people.

Radio stations conspire to play commercials at the same time. This one might be true cuz every day at 3:50 all 4 of the commercial radio stations I browse on the way to work have commercials. They also conspire to play the same songs over and over again. I think they are being paid by the record labels.

I think Suge Knight knows why Tupac died and I think Puffy knows why Biggie died. I'm not saying they did it, but I think they know more than they are telling. It may not have been a conspiracy, but it damn sure has been a cover up.

I think anytime a celebrity gets photographed naked, it's done on purpose. Its a conspiracy to get attention. There is no such thing as an accidental crotch flash.

Jheri curls were invented by White Supremacists to destroy Black peoples hair and ruin our self image.

Magic Johnson doesn't really have HIV. It was a conspiracy to sell more condoms.. Or it was a mob conspiracy to let Michael Jordan finally win a championship.

Lottery Tickets are a conspiracy to keep poor people poor by feeding into their dreams of getting rich quick.

The CIA is at least partially responsible for the crack epidemic. (I really believe this one)

The government uses the Patriot Act to not only to fight terrorism, but to monitor American citizens.

There is a church conspiracy to blame all bad stuff on "God works in mysterious ways." It makes it easier to accept the bad in life and gives people an excuse to not use their own free will.

The New Orleans Saints did so good last year because the NFL wanted a feel good story after Katrina.

See what I'm saying. It's a c-o-n-spiracy. Yeah, I know most of these aren't even rational, but no good conspiracy theory is. That doesn't mean it isn't true. You got any conspiracy theories? Feel free to post them in the comments. No proof is required.

I Typed A Text To A Girl I Used To See...

Completely random title, but I just can't get Andre 3000's verse from "International Player's Anthem" out of my head. In addition to proving to me that Hip Hop may still be alive, he actually has me listening to a UGK song. They may be the most overrated rappers in my opinion next to Tupac. Regardless of that, I didn't mean to go off on a tangent about that. I just couldn't think of an appropriate title, and that verse is stuck in my head, so there you have it.

It's Monday, therefore once again, its time for the obligatory tell you what I did this weekend post. What did I do? Well Friday, I did a whole lot of nothing. In between naps and phone calls, I slept and talked on the phone. I also drove around like gas doesn't cost $2.62 a gallon, but that's how I clear my head. I wound up on the other side of town.. you know what? I doesn't matter, Friday was boring lets just skip ahead to Saturday.

Saturday was PHD day. I spent the day with her in Athens. She got me a ticket and someone's student ID and we went to the Georgia-South Carolina football game. Before the game, PHD ignored my self diagnosed Social Anxiety Disorder and took me to hang out with some of her fellow doctorate students. I did okay, I didn't run off and hide in the corner like I wanted to, and they were actually pretty cool. I've now met 6 of her friends, not counting our mutual friend who hooked us up. We then walked up to the stadium for the game. Man, this trip reminded me that I need to always have my camera with me at all times. It was an experience.

For one, I saw a group of about 10 drunk White frat brothers cranking that Soulja Boy dance thing. You know..Supaman'n that ho? That was some funny ish. Damn you YouTube for spreading our buffoonery to other races. LOL. Secondly, the people were just dressed crazy. Most of the girls were wearing dresses to the football game. Some of them looked like they were going to the prom instead of a football stadium with 94,000 fans. It was weird. On top of that, along with the cocktail dresses (complete with sashes), they were wearing flip flops. The men weren't that much better. They went all out with the University of Georgia gear. A bunch of them had on pants that had one black leg and one red leg. It looked like the old Cross Colours jeans if they were uninspired and only had 2 colors. Others had pants with pictures of the UGA mascot all over them. Oh and everyone but me was drunk. It smelled like a distillery in that stadium, and from what I was told, it was pretty tame compared to some of the other games. This one guy directly in front of me was teetering the whole game, I kept expecting him to pass out drunk. Somehow he maintained, but a couple of people fell down the bleachers. It was pretty funny. By the way, Georgia lost 16-12, but it was still fun.

After the game, we walked back to PHD's friends house and got the car. ALL of the streets in the area were blocked off because of the game traffic, so we couldn't get back to PHD's crib. Instead, we went back to the bookstore, because she is determined to get me to start reading again, something about how since I have an English degree, I should use it. We, well mostly she, picked out a book that we will read together, I'm already scheming on the Cliff Notes (if they still make those) or some online review, because the first chapter put me to sleep. Maybe it was the not sleeping for 24 hours thing, but I choose to blame it on the book, I.nfi.del by A.yaa.n Hir.si A.li. If anyone has read it, give me some talking points so I can pretend like I read it when I talk to PHD. I'm kidding...unless you gonna do it. After some more interesting and enlightening conversations (for example, she told her mom about me. WTF?) we were finally able to make it past the roadblocks and get back home.

So, that was my weekend. It was the perfect mix of doing nothing and doing something. I meant to add pictures, but I only had my crappy camera phone, and the pictures looked pretty dark. I'll try to get some pictures with my digital next week when I take PHD to see the Stevie Wonder concert at Chas.tain A.mpi.thea.ter. It's an outdoor show, so it better not rain. I'm actually excited about the concert. Just gotta make it through the week first. Have a productive start to your work week, and I'll get at you in a coupla days.

Fresh.. for '07, you suckas!!!! ( I bet you thought I ran out of old school goodbyes. Nope, not yet! LOL)

Unsolicited

People say and do the darndest things. Too much unsolicited stuff going on this week.

Unsolicited Advice of the Week: You are a natural. You should be a trainer. This is after I ran the first part of our team meeting today.

Unsolicited Date of the Week: The Kenyan woman at work who said that if I do something or another, she would take me out on the town, in an evening gown. I don't remember asking you for a date.

Unsolicited Conversation of the Week: On break at work, this lady who sounds like Weezy Jefferson decided to tell me about how her daughter is getting divorced and will be looking for a new man.

Unsolicited Text Message of the Week: In case you cared, I'm moving on October 1st. You could have at least called and checked on me. You can be so insensitive sometimes.

Unsolicited Email of the Week: The religious email that I got from my grandma, my mom and my mother's husband within an hour of each other. I can't really tell them not to send me that stuff even though I don't like the "forward this or go to hell" tone of the email.

Unsolicited Backhanded Compliment of the Week: I like that tie. You can look nice when you want to.

Unsolicited Sales Pitch of the Week: Hey, homey! I got them I-phones for $100. When I sarcastically asked how to activate a stolen phone, he got mad and said, Fuck you if you don't want it.

Unsolicited MySpace Friends Request of the Week: ChinaDoll aka the crazy girl that used to stalk me in Savannah, and now is stalking me on MySpace. This has to be the 7th or 8th time I have denied her and she keeps trying.

Unsolicited Relationship Advice of the Week: You should go ahead and wife her. I told you we are just dating, so stop trying to make us a couple.

and finally the Unsolicited Panhandling Moment of the Week: This guy that I have never seen before in my life asked me to hold $3 so he could get a pack of condoms. Da hell?

Aiight, have a good weekend. Hopefully, I'll have something exciting to write about next week. Keep it real, yo!!!

Another Edition of Rashan Thinking Too Much: Sports and Racism

What's the deal, blog fam? I hope you all had a safe and enjoyable Labor Day weekend. Mine was cool. I didn't do too much of anything this weekend, other than go to my niece's birthday party. Other than that, I overdosed on college football this weekend and watched a few movies. My "girly" date with PHD was postponed as she had a paper to rewrite this weekend, so I pretty much chilled.

Monday, I realized something about myself. I just might be a racist. It started out innocently enough. I was half - watching the US Open tennis tournament and there was a match between a (half) Black dude and a White dude. The names escape me right now. Well, subconsciously, I decided that I wanted the Black dude to win. I realized I had no other reason for rooting for him than a common possession of melanin. When I think about it, its not anything new, I think I always root for the Black guy to win, but I wonder does that make me racist? I imagine if a Caucasian said the same thing, I would think it was racism, but for me, it just came natural to root for the Negro. Hell, I even find myself rooting for Ti.ger Woo.ds sometimes, even though he strikes me as the least Black Black person in America.

What made it worse is the announcers. I usually watch sports with the volume down to tune out the inane babbling of the so called experts, but today I was listening to them. It seemed to me, that every time the Black player made a good shot, it was attributed to his athleticism, rather than his skill. The opposite was in effect for the White player. He, according to the announcers, was skillful, not athletic. I thought about that for a minute. Was I wrong in thinking that racism had something to do with their characterizations of the players? And don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it was malicious in nature, but it seemed to be a double standard going on. I then thought about my own perceptions of the races when it comes to sports. Almost subconsciously, when you see a White athlete, he doesn't give you the athletic vibe. That's why in basketball, its 10 times worse to get dunked on by a White guy, than a Black guy. Or in football, why we still have conversations about Black quarterbacks when almost half of the starters in the league are Black. I came to the conclusion that I am just as racist as everyone else, because I think these same thoughts sometimes.

Here are some of my racist thoughts when it comes to sports:

If I watch a Mexican boxer, I think he's gonna be really tough. I also know he is gonna get cut about halfway through the fight.
I'm always shocked when a White basketball player dunks instead of shooting three pointers or mid range jumpers.
Black soccer players must be from Africa because we don't play that in the hood. (like I know anything about the hood.)
Have I ever seen an Asian Football player?
I got more, but I think I've put my own prejudices out there enough for one day.

I've heard the argument that Black people can't be racist because we don't have the power in this country. With all due respect, I think that's some bullshit. Since when does power factor in to the way we think? If I call someone a ho.nky ala Geor.ge Jeffe.rson, isn't it the same as them calling me ni.gger, regardless of whether or not we have one Black senator, or fifty. I don't think that is particularly a bad thing, its just tribalism. Most people are more comfortable with people that they share a common experience with. I am of the opinion that most people have some racism in them one way or another. It doesn't make them bad people necessarily, it just is what it is. The key is to be able to put aside your racism and treat people the same regardless of race.

I know racism is a touchy subject and I don't mean to make light of it. Since sports is what made me think about it, I just discussed it from a sports perspective. I could probably find more examples of my racism in other aspects of my life, but I don't want to come across as an even bigger bigot. I honestly believe in the equal rights of all Americans, but I also realize that when it comes down to it, most people are gonna cheer for their own tribe. What do you think? Am I just thinking too deeply, or am I a racist for these thoughts? Does rooting for your race or countryman make one a racist? I'd be lying if I said I knew the answer.

And I'm outta here...like last year... (more old school ish for ya!)